A Job
by EternityEnds
Summary: After killing a state alchemist, Scar spends a night in hiding and he reflects on his past and all that he has done. I know, I'm bad at summaries... One-shot.


**A/N: **My first non-poetry fan-fic, so it may not be all that great. Please don't be too harsh.

**Disclaimer:** I do not own anything from FMA.

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Sirens cried into the night; the only indication that the city was not at peace. Their shrieks filled the air, if only for a few seconds, then faded away into the dark until only the faint glows of taillights remained. No one asked why these cars went by. Everyone knew what had happened earlier that night. The killer had struck again. Another alchemist lay dead. And so they went, looking for the man they called Scar. Lawful eyes would prowl the streets until the criminal was caught. That was the promise they had made to the people, and that was the promise they intended to keep.

-x-x-x-

He closed his eyes and shivered, drawing his golden jacket around him for warmth. The country, this city, was too cold for his liking. It had been years since he had left the heat of his homeland behind, but still he found his body aching to feel its desert air sweep across his scarred skin. He could remember its calidity as if he had just walked away from its sands yesterday. As if it had only been a day since he had left his name and the smoldering ruins behind. _Ishval,_ he thought, _I swear I will go back to you one day.I swear I will make all this right._

He could still see it so clearly. Its sandy seas lay out before him, the amber perfection broken only by the modest earthen homes that made up the city. His city. The one he had before the military scum had killed its people and burnt its buildings to the ground. The one that had been filled with life, with hope, with love before they came. The one he grew up with. The one that held his family, his hope. The one he once swore to protect and that he now swore to avenge. The one that he had lost. The one that he had lost to them. His home. His home.

Sirens shrieked, looking for him. His bitter reverie was soon lost.

_I suppose it's all for the best._ His eyes focused on the dark alleyway he had hidden himself in after committing his crime. The desert had faded completely away, leaving him with only the sight of the destitute pathway he now sat in. It was cold, full of shadows, a sharp contrast to the lost paradise he had been remembering. _It can be dangerous to dwell upon such dreams._ His tanned eyelids shut. _Even if they are all I have left._

Before he could stop it, resentment and anger flew through his chest. Anger for all that had been taken from him, for all that he once had, and resentment for all those butchers that they now dared to call heroes. What made their crimes so different from his, so righteous? In the eyes of God, they were all murderers. At least his transgressions were for a noble cause: to rid the world of those filthy alchemists. They, they just killed innocents at random, killed his family, because of greed and because they were told to. They perverted the work of God for their own selfish gain. He only wished to improve the world, while they seemed determined to destroy it. Destroy it or conquer it. It didn't really matter. Either way, they only sought to put themselves on top, no matter the cost.

"They are the monsters, not me."

As if they heard his declaration, the sirens came, louder, louder. He heart tightened in his chest; his pulse racing with both fear and anticipation. _Let them come._ Yet he sat, still as a statue, barely even breathing as he listened. They continued to come and come. For a brief alarming moment, it began to seem as if they had found him but then, just as he readied himself to stand, their blaring crescendo reached its peak. They were close, but not close enough to see him. _There is no sense in revealing myself if they have not spotted me yet._ He waited. Seconds passed. Then slowly, so slowly, they began to dissolve into the night. He was safe, if only for now.

He relaxed and let out a breath he hadn't realized he had been holding. In spite of his desire to make those dogs pay, relief flooded through him as he heard them drive away.

_It's all for the best._ He told himself again. _A fight now would only result in my death or capture. I cannot allow that to happen. Not yet. _He rested a hand on his right arm, the arm where his curse, his duty, was hidden beneath that thin layer of yellow cloth. _I still have work to do._

But for now, he had to wait. Hours passed as he sat in the shadows waiting; waiting until he was certain he would be safe. Ishvala might not be so kind to him again. _One near capture is enough for one day._

Eventually he heard even the sounds of night begin to die down. It was quiet, peaceful, a welcome change from all the noise that came with this city. But the death of this noise meant the death of night as well. _Dawn is coming._ But it wasn't there yet. _I have to go soon. All of Central City is looking for me. I can't just wander around during the day anymore. _

His smiled bitterly at this thought. Another personal freedom he had lost, all because of those 'men' who slaughtered his people. _Is there no end to what they will take from me?_

He already knew the answer. "No."

As the first rays of sunlight broke over the horizon, the scarred Ishvalan man finally stood, leaving behind his darkened hiding spot. He began to walk, his body stiff from the long night spent sitting.

As he took his first steps, a figure flashed across his mind. Short, blond, with eyes the colour of the sun. His hand once again raised and placed itself against his tattooed arm. _I'm not done. I'll never be done._

"I have a job to do."

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**A/N: **This turned out all right...It could have been better.I know there are quite a few sentence fragments up there (namely in paragraph three), but I hope that really didn't take too much from the story. Anyway, thanks for reading and I'd love it if you could review.


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